


When The Night Is Cold

by xxenjoy



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Breaking Up & Making Up, Canon Divergent, First Time, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23308789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxenjoy/pseuds/xxenjoy
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 23
Kudos: 536
Collections: The Witcher Alternate Universes





	When The Night Is Cold

Witchers don't have emotions, or so Jaskier has been told. Over the years though, he's grown to wonder if maybe it's less that they don't have emotions and more that they're not allowed to feel them. Tonight, for example, they've been walking for miles and they're both weary - even Roach is complaining. But Geralt has led them to three inns trying to find a room for the night and still nothing. The cold doesn't bother him - not much does - and so Jaskier can only assume it's for his benefit that they continue on into the night. 

They're between villages now and it's getting late. Soon it won't matter whether they find an inn or not because Jaskier will be asleep on his feet, stumbling along blindly behind Geralt. When Geralt stops dead in his path, Jaskier is too weary to react and he walks straight into him. 

"You're exhausted," Geralt says, turning to him. "We have to stop. You can take my blanket tonight. We'll light a fire."

"Alright," Jaskier says agreeably, hiding the fact that he's practically dead on his feet. 

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. We'll light a fire, it'll be enough." 

"Okay." Geralt turns immediately off the path, walking only until they reach a sheer wall of stone. He wraps Roach's bridle around a tree branch, sets his things down and sets off into the trees. While he's gone, Jaskier sets out their bedrolls around the largest clear patch. 

There's just enough space to light a fire without worrying about burning the forest down and while he waits for Geralt to return with firewood, Jaskier leans against a tree and shuts his eyes. A breeze blows through the trees and Jaskier shivers, wrapping his arms a little tighter around himself. Geralt can't get back soon enough. 

When they get the fire built - when _Geralt_ gets the fire built - they move their bedrolls closer and Jaskier shuffles as close as he can. They don't waste any time with talk tonight, not that Geralt is ever particularly keen on it, but tonight Jaskier is too tired anyway. He yawns and rolls onto his back, staring up into the misty blackness. He's been walking for nearly a day with little rest and sleep should be easy for him, but despite the extra blanket - even one that smells comfortingly like Geralt - and the fire he's still shivering. 

He keeps it to himself. Geralt is tired too and Jaskier doesn't want to disturb him. He looks so peaceful across the clearing, the yellow-orange light of the fire highlighting his features. Jaskier smiles softly to himself, tilting his head in the opposite direction. He doesn't sleep.

Across from him, Geralt snores softly, the fire having dimmed down and left them in darkness. Jaskier can only just make out his form in the dark and he tries to focus on it, to keep his mind on anything but the cold of the night. It nearly works, but then a breeze blows through and Jaskier shudders, tugging the blankets up over his shoulders.

There's a soft rustling that Jaskier barely hears over the chattering of his teeth and Geralt thuds down behind him. He grumbles lightly and drapes an arm over Jaskier's hip, drawing him in close. Jaskier's breath catches; they've shared a bed before more times than he can count, but not like this. Not touching, not with Geralt's chest pressed right against him, not with his arm around him. He knows it's just for warmth, but he likes the feeling of having Geralt wrapped around him. 

The morning rises crisp and cool and while Geralt is no longer with him, Jaskier isn't disappointed. Rather, he looks forward to the next night they can't find an inn or a stable to sleep in, to the next night he might have Geralt pressed up against him. He doesn't have to wait long.

Geralt's on the heels of a siren and, as usual, Jaskier is on the heels of the witcher. They're a day out from the lake where it supposedly lives and while the fisherman who put out the call for a witcher has opened his house to them both, they won't make it there before tomorrow evening. So they stop on the side of the road and Jaskier sits and smiles to himself as Geralt builds them a fire. 

It's warmer tonight than previously, but when they lay down to sleep Geralt lays his bedroll next to Jaskier's. Jaskier smiles to himself, turning away from Geralt to hide his immense pleasure. Geralt wraps an arm around him and Jaskier presses back against him, tucking his head under Geralt's. He shuts his eyes and... stays wide awake. 

It's warm out tonight, relatively speaking, and the heat of the witcher's body is tonight having the opposite of its desired effect. He feels every twitch and shift and before long his body starts to react. Badly. 

This is what happens to people who lie to get what they want, he thinks bitterly. 

He doesn't realize how much he's squirming, until one firm, hot hand is planted on his hip to steady him. When Geralt lets go, Jaskier settles back against his chest again, shutting his eyes so he can sleep. Only sleep is definitely not an option now because when he fits himself up against Geralt's chest, all he can feel is the hard line of his erection pressing into him. _Oh_. 

"Geralt?"

"Go to sleep, Jaskier."

"But-"

"Go to sleep."

Jaskier rolls over to face him, but he doesn't get the attention he's looking for. He presses his hands to Geralt's chest and, despite the hitch of his breath, Geralt continues to ignore him. But when Jaskier’s hand slips lower, just passing the planes of his belly, Geralt jerks away from him. In an instant, Jaskier finds himself on his back, staring up into wide, dark eyes. He thinks this time he's pushed too far, but just as he's getting ready to apologize, to beg Geralt's forgiveness, the witcher's mouth crashes against his own, silencing him. 

Geralt shifts to straddle him, draping him with his whole body and a soft whine escapes Jaskier's lips. Geralt makes a noise low in his throat and he presses down against him, rocking his hips with little finesse. Jaskier understands; if he's been wanting this even half as long as he has, technique is not the first thing in his mind. Not that it matters because at this point, he'd be happy to get off rutting against Geralt's thighs, one of which has wedged itself between Jaskier's. 

He's lost in the weight of Geralt on top of him, the rush of heat that sears through him. Geralt is softer than he would have expected, making it startlingly clear how he wants him, but with soft, purposeful touches and heated kisses that leave Jaskier breathless. 

Geralt reaches between them, fumbling with one hand to unlace their trousers and push them down enough to touch them both at once. Jaskier moans at the contact, rolling his hips up against Geralt's hand, but the touch is fleeting. He pulls away even as Jaskier chases the touch, arching off the ground with a whine, but then Geralt's back, climbing over him and pressing against his chest. He gets one hand under Jaskier's thigh, still grinding against him and Jaskier presses himself up close, reveling in the feeling of the Witcher's hands on him. 

They lie together in the grass, gasping and groaning and Jaskier is very much okay with getting off like this. He's wanted too long to worry about finesse, but then Geralt lets him go and shifts his weight off of him. Jaskier frowns and sits up to watch Geralt kneeling over him, his torso twisted as he rifles through his bag. Jaskier is still confused until finally, Geralt seems to have found what he's looking for and he turns back to him with a quirk of his lips. In one quick motion, he's got an arm around Jaskier's back and he's laying him back down, slipping his arm from under him and running it down the exposed skin on his stomach. 

He shudders under the touch and Geralt leans down, kissing him briefly before his mouth moves on, pressing hot kisses against his jaw and moving down. Jaskier hums happily under him, pressing his fingers lightly into Geralt's hair as he slips against him. Hot lips slide over his neck and collar bone and he lets out a little gasp as Geralt's teeth graze his skin. He leaves a wet trail down Jaskier's stomach, it's cool in the night breeze. Jaskier aches for him to bring his mouth back up again, but Geralt stays low sucking marks into the jut of his hip even as Jaskier groans and writhes under him. 

When he stops, Jaskier sits up, untwining his hands from Geralt's hair and frowning at him. When Geralt ducks his head again, Jaskier shuts his eyes and when Geralt's mouth presses against his cock, he nearly topples over backward. He lays back with a whimper, struggling to keep from pressing his hips up because it feels too good and it's all he's wanted for _years_ , to have Geralt this way, willingly with him. 

Hot lips slide over the head of his cock, sinking down on him and Jaskier thinks he's going to implode with the need that overwhelms him. He has one hand tight in Geralt's hair, the other pulling up grass where it's fisted at his side. He tries to keep his breathing steady but as Geralt sinks down on him fully, his nose pressing into dark curls, Jaskier lets out a shaky laugh. 

" _Ah, Geralt_."

Geralt hums around him and Jaskier falls silent again, rolling his head back. Geralt's hand slips from his hip and Jaskier hears the sound of a cork popping and holds his breath. Geralt pulls off his cock and when his fingers press against him, Jaskier spreads his legs to give him better access and lifts one knee up over his shoulder. 

Geralt slides over him, circling his hole without pressing in and Jaskier groans in his impatience. Geralt doesn't give him what he wants until he knows he's ready for it, but he keeps him occupied, kissing the insides of his thighs and up to his stomach. Stubble scrapes his skin and Jaskier continues whimpering, softly pleading Geralt for more because the teasing is killing him and he fears he might perish before morning. 

"Funny," Geralt huffs into his hip, "it didn't seem to bother you when _you_ were the one doing it."

Jaskier groans in frustration and arches off the ground. "Geralt," he whines and he's barely got the word out when Geralt relents, pressing slowly into him. 

His fingers are thick, but _fuck_ it feels good and Jaskier brings his arms up, folding them over his face and biting down on his lip. Geralt doesn't push all the way in before drawing back and sliding in again. He does it again a couple of times before sinking fully into him and seeking out that spot that will leave Jaskier panting and desperate. He makes quick work of it and Jaskier struggles to keep up. 

He's been with people who give and give and he's been with people who do their best to make him lose his mind in bed, but no one has been able to do to him what Geralt does to him tonight. Geralt takes him apart piece by piece and Jaskier, even out in the middle of nowhere in the cold, is more than happy to let him. 

He's aching, desperate, by the time Geralt withdraws, and even the cold night air doesn’t cool his heated skin. Jaskier lies limp against the ground, having squirmed his way off the bedroll and into the dewy grass. He's too happy, too overwhelmed to care, but Geralt doesn't seem bothered by it either. He rises up over him, propping himself up on one arm and Jaskier loops his arms around his neck, pushing his fingertips into the hair at the back of his neck. He's delirious and when Geralt presses his cock against him, pressing forward slowly, he clenches his fingers and rocks his hips up to meet him. 

Geralt is cautious and he's quiet, but when Jaskier looks up at him, his pleasure is plain on his face. He has his eyes shut, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth in concentration and Jaskier doesn't think he's ever looked more beautiful than in this moment. He tightens his grip around Geralt's neck and pushes him up to kiss him. To Jaskier's surprise, he finds himself immediately pressed back against the ground and Geralt's hands are on him, slick with oil and sliding against his skin. He kisses him back with urgency rocking gently into him as they move together. 

As Geralt pushes deeper, seeking out that most sensitive part of him. When he hits it, thrusting hard into him, Jaskier throws his head back into the grass with a groan.

"Oh fuck," he breathes, digging his fingers into Geralt's neck. " _Oh, f-_ " 

He's silenced as Geralt thrusts forward again and his words dissolve into a low groan. Geralt doesn't let up; if anything, Jaskier's responsiveness drives him forward. He drives into him hard, bites his neck, even when he kisses him, it's rough and passionate and Jaskier is overwhelmed by it. 

He's thought about this a lot, especially on cold nights when he traveled alone, but it was never anything quite like this. He never imagined Geralt to be quite so sensitive or so handsy. His hands and mouth are always on him, kissing and touching every inch of him and Jaskier loves it in a way he never thought he would. His heart is full and the way Geralt makes him feel is incredible. It's more than he could have ever hoped for. 

When he comes, he's wrapped around Geralt, holding him close as Geralt kisses him roughly, moaning against his lips. They collapse together afterward and Geralt is surprisingly soft. He makes sure Jaskier is clean and dry, pulling him up against his side on the bedroll. 

Geralt kisses him softly even after the fire has burned down and Jaskier is happy. He falls asleep that night, warm and satisfied in the arms of his witcher. 

\- - - - - - -

From then on, things are different. They're closer and Geralt is less grouchy than usual, though Jaskier puts that down to the increased amount of sex he's having. Once it starts, it doesn't stop, falling into bed together nearly every night. Whether it's to keep Jaskier warm in the cool night or in front of a hot fire at the closest inn. Jaskier's not picky and he's beginning to wonder if this is the beginning of something bigger, but then Yennefer comes into their lives.

The djinn disaster is regrettable for more than one reason, but none so much as _Yennefer_. It's Jaskier's own pride and stupidity that practically shoves her at Geralt, but at the time he was too scared and desperate to realize it was happening. The sex that followed was a pretty good indicator though. 

Since then Geralt hasn't so much as touched him. At first, he thought it was concern, that Geralt was just too worried about Jaskier's wellbeing to fuck him, but now he knows that's not the case. Because now Jaskier is perfectly healthy and he has been for months. Now Geralt has Yennefer and Jaskier is left out in the cold - literally and metaphorically - while Yennefer enjoys midnight visits from the witcher. 

Jaskier's only solace is that she doesn't travel with them. Not that being alone with Geralt and not being able to have him is much consolation, but at least he doesn't have to hear them together. Sleeping alone in the cold is better than that. 

They're camped at the edge of a city - Jaskier doesn't remember the name of it, doesn't care if he's honest - and Yen is with them. He waits until it's dark, until Geralt has disappeared into Yen's tent and he knows no one will miss him. The thought tugs at hugs heart, but tonight he needs to be alone. 

He walks a little ways away from the camp, far enough that he won't hear Geralt and Yennefer and he sits on the edge of the cliff, looking out into the distance. He sings softly to himself. It’s a song he thought he'd completed - other than a sticky choice between two adjectives. In the end, he chose neither. Geralt is neither lovely nor gorgeous to him anymore. At least that's what he would like; he's not strong enough to stop loving Geralt, even if he has been pushed aside. 

" _So tell me love, tell me love, how is that just_?" 

There's a soft snort from behind him and Jaskier falls silent, looking back over his shoulder to find Roach standing over him. She snorts again, shaking her head at him and Jaskier offers up a soft, if not forced smile. 

"How'd you get loose?" he asks, running a hand up the side of her face, slipping his fingers around her reins. She kicks the dirt with a hoof but doesn't respond. "Ah well. At least I have you, right?" Roch bumps him with her nose and he smiles, resting his forehead against hers. 

"What do you think?" he asks. "Am I a fool to stand by him?" Roach snorts again, ruffling his hair and Jaskier sighs. "You're right, of course. It felt like things were changing, though." Roach whinnies and Jaskier side-eyes her. 

"If he cares, he doesn't show it," he snorts. He turns and pulls his knees up to his chest, crossing his arms over them. Roach follows, leaning against him until Jaskier nearly topples off the other side of his seat. "If you really think he cares, why is he in there with Yennefer and I'm out here with you? No offense."

If Roach is bothered by what he said, she makes no attempt to show it. Instead, she continues to lean against Jaskier as the moon rises high in the sky. He sings to her the few songs he can recall that are peaceful but not romantic. A good many of his songs of late are about love, about one love in particular, and right now he's not feeling very loving. 

He sings to Roach songs of heartbreak and sadness and leans against her shoulder. She holds him up as he drifts off to sleep and when he wakes up in the morning, he's rolled off the boulder, but Roach is still standing guard, grazing quietly a few feet away.

\- - - - - - -

Days and weeks pass and nothing changes. Outwardly, Jaskier and Geralt still have a good relationship, but Jaskier's misery is getting the better of him and some nights he turns in early just to avoid talking to him. Geralt keeps hunting and Jaskier keeps composing, but most of his songs are dreary now and he shares them rarely, at least with Geralt.

On the nights when the Witcher falls asleep first, Jaskier will sit up and sing to Roach. Her opinion is the only one he cares for anymore. She listens without judgment and is free with her criticism when the lyrics become too dismal. When Yennefer joins them on the road again, Jaskier's mood deteriorates. They're drinking, celebrating Geralt's victory over a pair of werewolves when he finally realizes what he has to do. 

He's talking to a comely young maid and he feels bad because he can't even remember her name. He didn't really want company to begin with, but Jaskier isn't the type to send someone away, especially not someone as lovely as she. And yet, despite her fair hair and shining eyes, Jaskier can't keep his eyes off Geralt. The witcher is tucked away in a corner, drinking quietly with Yennefer; he doesn't even seem to miss Jaskier's company. 

"She's beautiful," says the woman and Jaskier turns to her briefly before his gaze falls back to Geralt. "I can see why your attention is drawn by her."

"Oh," he realizes, she thinks he's staring at Yennefer. "Uh, yeah. Beautiful."

"Him?" she asks, sliding a little closer along the bench. "I suppose he does have a certain quality a woman might find intriguing."

"Or a man," Jaskier confirms, ducking his head when Geralt's turns in his direction. 

"A friend of yours?"

"Maybe," he says, but he knows it's not the truth. Geralt _is_ a friend, even if things haven't been easy of late. "Yes," he corrects. "Geralt is my friend."

"And the woman?"

"Not my friend." Jaskier casts a longing look toward the corner of the inn, then briefly turns to his companion. "I need to catch my breath," he says, pushing himself up from his seat. "Thank you for your company, enjoy the rest of your night."

He slips out among the crowd of dancers, unnoticed so far as he can tell, by his traveling companions. The sky is lit by the moon and stars, the night clear with their light. He walks out past the stables where Roach is boarded and she whinnies and stomps her feet as he passes without acknowledgment. Jaskier turns to find her frowning, if a horse can frown, and he huffs a soft humourless laugh, crossing over to her. 

"I'm sorry," he says, reaching out to stroke her nose, "I just need some time." She protests as Jaskier pulls away, turning from her. He doesn't get very far before someone else calls out to him. This voice sends a shiver straight through him; if anyone could get him to change his plans, it would be him. 

"Jaskier!" 

He turns, slowly, to face Geralt, holding on to his determination. He's leaving for a reason, he reminds himself, and not even Geralt of Rivia, not even the great White Wolf can stop him. 

"Where have you been? Yen's leaving, we need to-"

"I'm going," Jakiers says, feeling stronger than he is.

"Where?"

"I don't know yet. I just need some time."

"Why?"

"To compose. My writing's failing of late and I need a fresh start."

"You do that fine with me around. You sing incessantly. We can go somewhere new-"

"Geralt, I just need some time alone."

"Yen's leaving-"

"Alone by myself, Geralt. You'll be fine on your own."

"Why won't you stay?"

"I can't, not right now." Jaskier takes a deep breath, offering the brightest smile he can muster. "See you." He turns away and he can hear in the silence the way Geralt breathes. Then follows.

He moves quickly, catching up to Jaskier with only a few long strides. "Jaskier," he says again. "Damnit, Jaskier, come back!" Despite himself, Jaskier turns to him. "Can I not care for you both at once?"

"You can do what you wish," Jaskier says, aiming for reassuring and missing the mark by a mile. "But I can't stay, my heart can't take it. I'm not strong, Geralt." He turns again and this time he's allowed to leave quietly, alone.

\- - - - - - -

This time, it's months before Jaskier sees the Witcher again. Distance doesn't help quell his feelings, but it helps him to remember something other than pain. He takes up in a small village, playing in the inn in return for room and board. He doesn't travel.

He adjusts to a simpler way of life, though he doesn't enjoy it. The travelers who pass through tell him grand tales, but it's not the same as experiencing them for himself. He sees love all around him but feels none for himself. Even those who share his bed don't give him what he really seeks. But how could they? How could anyone when his heart and mind are still miles away, traveling the hills and valleys of the continent and he is only here in physical form. 

But he gets by. He makes enough coin to keep himself fed and housed and when he's not otherwise occupied, he sits out in the fields and sings. He writes sometimes, too, but only if the mood strikes him. The people of this village are happy enough to hear his old songs again and again - and it's been some time since he's written a new one he can be proud of. At least one that doesn't have people falling to their knees in sorrow. He's lost his muse. 

But then come the attacks. 

Right from the first day, Jaskier recognizes them as werewolf attacks, but he's as helpless as the rest to do anything about it. He hears from patrons at the inn that they've put out for a Witcher and his heart leaps into his throat. 

Jaskier keeps himself out of sight, bowing out of two nights' performances at the inn to be sure not to run into this Witcher. Just in case. 

On the third day since the Witcher arrived, Jaskier sits in the field playing songs for the children. He recalls songs from his own childhood to sing - the ones of his own making being unfit for youth. He's happy enough in the sun, with the joy of the children to lift his spirits, but it doesn't last long. 

Jaskier smells him before he sees him, coming along the path back into town and reeking of something awful. The children flee when they see him, running back to their parents but Jaskier keeps his seat. He turns only so that he won’t have to face Geralt, should he see him. The gesture is unnecessary and as Geralt continues up the hill, Jaskier watches from a distance. He has no doubt the Witcher knows he's here, but maybe his hesitance to reunite is mutual. 

He watches Geralt walk up the road and into the inn, wondering how he’s missed him these past days if that’s where he’s staying. Then again, maybe he just wants a bath. Or maybe the innkeeper holds the contract he’s fulfilling. 

Jaskier considers this as he collects himself, but he delays heading for the inn. With any luck, Geralt will be gone now within the day and Jaskier can return to the life he's built for himself here, but he doesn’t want to risk a confrontation. 

When he makes his way back, he does so in silence, listening to the sounds of the village he's come to call his home. It doesn't sound like home, not in the way he's used to and as he pushes the doors of the inn open, he's almost hoping to find Geralt there waiting for him. 

It's a fantasy, nothing more, but he's still disappointed when he's only greeted by the black and white cat who also calls the inn her home. He bends to pet her on his way up to his room and when he reaches the top of the stairs, his attention is caught by the creaking of a door. He looks to see Geralt at the opposite end of the hall, wet and naked save for a sheet wrapped around his hips. Jaskier's body heats without permission and his heartbeat quickens. 

Every instinct tells himself to turn the other way and save himself the heartache, but he can't bring his feet to move. A faint smile tugs at the corner of Geralt's lips and like a weight lifting off his shoulders, Jaskier knows he's lost. 

"I'm sorry," he says and Jaskier couldn't leave if he wanted to. He's shaking his head softly before he realizes it and Geralt takes a step forward. "Come back," he says. "I'm leaving tomorrow, come with me."

"You were fine on your own before," Jaskier rebuts. "Why do you want me back now?"

"I-" Geralt sighs and rolls his eyes, "do we have to do this here? _Now_?"

"Yes." His voice comes out stronger than expected and Geralt relents. 

"I miss you," he admits and Jaskier genuinely thinks he misheard.

"I'm sorry, what?" he takes a step forward and Geralt mirrors the motion, though he doesn't stop when Jaskier does. He comes up close enough that Jaskier can smell the soap on his skin. 

"I've missed your company. I'd like you to join me again if you can forgive me."

Jaskier drops his arms to his sides, looking up at Geralt. He couldn't say no if he wanted to; he loves Geralt too much for that. Shaking his head, he steps into Geralt's space, closing the last of the distance between them. 

"I meant what I said before."

"I know." 

"Geralt, I can't- My feelings haven't changed."

"I know that, too." He lifts an arm, hesitates, then rests his palm on Jaskier's hip. "I'll do what it takes to have you back."

"What about Yennefer?"

"I was... scared, for lack of a better word. I didn't know how to deal with that and then Yen came along and... I didn't realize I was hurting you."

"Scared?" Jaskier asks, disbelieving. "What could the White Wolf possibly be afraid of?" 

"Losing the one person who actually matters to me.” 

Jaskier pushes him back, shutting his eyes. “Don’t toy with me, Geralt.”

“I’m not. You move on from all your other affairs so quickly. I didn't want you to get bored with me and move on for good."

"Geralt," he breathes and when Geralt steps closer again, Jaskier lets him, reaching up to cup the witcher's face in his hand. "I move on because _we _move on. Because we leave town. I move on from them so I don't have to leave _you_." For a split second, Jaskier thinks he can hear Geralt's heart beating rapidly, but as the Witcher's arms wind around his waist, he realizes it's his own. __

__Warm lips press against his own and Jaskier's hand slips back, tangling itself in Geralt's damp hair. He lets out a gasp as Geralt's mouth moves against his own but he catches up quickly enough. When his back hits a support and he's trapped firmly between Geralt's chest and the railing, he lifts his arms, wrapping around the Witcher's neck and kissing him fiercely._ _

__He pours everything he has into it; the fear, the unknowing, longing, sadness, _love_. In all the months he's spent here imagining his reunion with Geralt, this is not how he anticipated it would go. For all the times he's imagined a lovers return very little clothing, of course it was Geralt to be found in nothing but a bath sheet. _ _

__There's a creak from behind them and Geralt breaks the kiss, instinctively looking over his shoulder for trouble. There is none, just a chambermaid with fresh linens in her hands and a dark flush across her cheeks. Geralt doesn't so much as let his grip slip and he turns back to Jaskier, his expression irritated though amused._ _

__"Later," he breathes. Jaskier beams at him._ _

__"Supper?" asks hopefully. Geralt ducks his head with a huff, a soft smile playing on his lips._ _

__"Of course."_ _

__"Although, we'll have to eat early," Jaskier considers, smiling. "I have to perform tonight. Will you stay and listen?"_ _

__"If you wish." Only now does Geralt's hold on him lessen slightly, his hands sliding up under his doublet."You should prepare for your show. I'll see you tonight."_ _

__Before he leaves, Geralt dips his head, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to Jaskier's lips before departing. Jaskier stands, speechless, staring after him._ _

____

\- - - - - - -

Dinner is a noisy affair, no more intimate than the countless meals they've shared in the past, but Jaskier isn't disappointed. Inns and taverns are no place for romantic gestures, but he has no doubt now that those will come later, somewhere along the road.

He performs his set as agreed, though every so often he casts a glance to the corner of the room and finds Geralt looking back at him. The Witcher would never admit it, under pain of death, but more than once Jaskier catches him smiling. 

There's a break a little while later and Jaskier is standing, talking to the innkeeper and his wife, when someone approaches from behind. He knows the sound of his footsteps, careful and precise, after years of experience and a smile creeps across his face even before the hand slides up his back. His conversation companions don't notice the change, but Jaskier straightens a little reflexivity as practiced fingers tug at his chemise. 

"Pardon my intrusion," Geralt says and Jaskier glances up just to make sure that is, in fact, him. "Might I borrow the bard, for a moment?"

"Certainly," the innkeeper says and Jaskier suspects it's out of fear that he lets him go so easily. His wife, on the other hand, has a subtle look of understanding on her face and Jaskier winks at her as he's turned away. 

Geralt's hand tightens in his shirt as he's guided toward the stairs. It sends a rush of adrenaline through him and as they move up the stairs, Jaskier realizes neither of them will be returning to the party. His thoughts are confirmed when they reach the top of the stairs and Geralt pushes him against his door and crowds him up against it. 

He kisses him roughly, pressing firm hands on Jaskier's hips. It keeps him at a distance and Jaskier groans against his lips, fighting against the Witcher's strength just to touch him. He manages to get one arm around Geralt's neck in the furor and with the other he reaches behind them to get the door open. 

When the door swings open, Jaskier stumbles back but Geralt is quicker, catching him with both arms and hauling him off his feet to keep him from falling backward. Jaskier expects to be deposited on the bed as they've done so many times before, but Geralt kicks the door shut behind him and presses Jaskier's back up against the wall. He pulls away and Jaskier's panting heavily trying to catch his breath. 

"They loved you tonight," Geralt huffs into his neck. His teeth drag along the sensitive skin and Jaskier's eyes roll back in his head. 

"And what about you?" he asks, his voice lifting at the end as Geralt rolls his hips against him. 

"Exquisite."

"You're just saying that," Jaskier breathes, but whether Geralt is just appeasing him or not, he blooms under the attention. Geralt responds with a " _hmm_ ," muffled as he presses his lips to Jaskier's skin again. Jaskier tips his head to the side, allowing for better access and shuts his eyes. Geralt likes to take things slow - when they have the time - and Jaskier very much likes to let him. He loves the warm touch of his skin when they finally get to be alone, the dampness of his breath when he can't quite find the words. Jaskier softens, leaning his head against the wall and running his fingers through Geralt's hair. 

"I've missed this," he breathes and the response he gets is non-verbal, but Geralt gets his point across; he missed this, too. 

Geralt shifts his weight under him, readjusting Jaskier in his arms and then turns toward the bed. He lays him down but doesn't let him go, sliding one hand into Jaskier's hair and keeping it there. He takes him apart slowly, so Jaskier is practically begging for it by the end, but he wouldn't have it any other way. He wraps himself around Geralt's body and stays like that long after they've finished, holding him against him. They don't often speak of things like _love_ , but sometimes words are a burden. Like this, Jaskier can tell him everything he wants him to know, without the harshness of words. 

They lay together for a little while, even after disentangling themselves and Jaskier plays with Geralt's hair, running his fingers through it and working out the tangles that he likely put there in the first place. The Witcher has his eyes shut, but Jaskier knows better than to think he's asleep. 

"Did you mean that about my singing? Am I not just a fillingless pie?"

Geralt huffs an amused laugh, rolling onto his side as a smile spreads across his face. "No, you're not. You never were."

"Oh?" Jaskier shifts under Geralt's arm, propping himself up on his elbow as he faces him. "Do tell."

"That first night in the tavern," Geralt gives him a look like he should be lucky to get this much out of him and Jaskier just smiles and nods for him to continue. "The only reason I let you sit with me was because I liked your singing. It was crude and-"

"Ah, ah, let's just stop there shall we? I liked your review of my performance tonight much better."

"Which one?" Geralt smirks, returning to his back. Jaskier gawks at him, pretending to be scandalized and Geralt just wraps an arm around his shoulders and tugs him closer. There will still be obstacles - loving a witcher is never a simple task - but after all they’ve been through, Jaskier is sure whatever will come for them will be worth it.


End file.
